


singing with all my skin and bone, "please keep him safe"

by fishingrods



Category: Gintama
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, Metaphors, Silver Soul Arc, based on saying your name by richard siken, fluff?? is this fluff. i hope it is, sad gintoki best gintoki, there's a sexual part if you squint hard enough. it's mostly sad though, what happened on the boat?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishingrods/pseuds/fishingrods
Summary: The brief happiness one obtains before death crashes the door open with their bmw and tells them they'll die now.
Relationships: Sakata Gintoki/Takasugi Shinsuke
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	singing with all my skin and bone, "please keep him safe"

**Author's Note:**

> this took place during that one ep where takagin finally put their gay asses together into cooperating yada yada yada shouyou's heart yada yada im too. lazyto check the episode. im literally doing my math hw while typing this note i cant use my brain ((looks at my smudged handwriting on my hand)) anyways have fun reading this <3 or not idk

_I try, I do. I try and try. A happy ending?_

_Sure enough — Hello darling, welcome home._

_I’ll call you darling, hold you tight. We are_

_not traitors but the lights go out. It’s dark._

Takasugi traces Gintoki’s back with his fingertip, carefully and softly as if the man who is in his embrace right now is as fragile as the happiness he had felt long time ago that disappeared from a mere change of atmosphere, flames dancing carelessly around the place he had once called home, or at least acknowledge it as something far more better than the mansion that was supposed to be his.

“Takasugi, stop groping me.” Gintoki whines, turning away from him and yawns. He uses one of his arms as a makeshift pillow as he stares at the ray of moonlight that is splayed on the floor of the boat, as if it has become its new home. His hand twitches slightly, as if his muscles are telling him to go and reach for it. Get up, it says. Touch the light, it says.

He does neither of those.

He smells a familiar stench of odour, and that is the sign that Takasugi is smoking his kiseru. He turns his body and faces the man who is no longer by his side anymore. Takasugi is sitting at the edge of the window frame, one leg folds slightly as the feet rests on the window frame while the other leg is just hanging loosely, his feet barely touching the ground. The yukata that was once wrapped neatly around his body a few minutes ago is now in a sloppy condition, showcasing his chest freely.

Gintoki plops his head on his hand and grins. “Oi, I’ve been wondering about this for awhile. Do you always wear your yukata like that on purpose or are you just that bad at wearing it properly?”

Takasugi scoffs, taking a long drag from his kiseru before releasing the smoke in the air and snarkily replies, “As if you’re any better. Do you think it’s cool to wear it without putting your right sleeves in your arms?”

“Shut up, I can wear it properly when I want. I’m even wearing it properly right now.”

“And I, too.” Takasugi sits up and rests his back against the wall. “I just don’t think I have to wear it properly right now.”

“Eh~” Gintoki gets out of the futon and crawls slightly towards Takasugi’s direction. He stops just a few steps away from reaching him and says, in a low tone, “Or are you trying to seduce me?”

Takasugi laughs, and Gintoki can’t tell if he is actually laughing out of amusement or sarcasm. “Ah, Gintoki. You’re so insufferable,” Takasugi exclaims, a smile still not leaving his face.

Gintoki shows his shitty grin again, and Takasugi tries not to gulp when he sees the perm head's bloody red eyes gleaming, making it look more alive than it usually is. _Is it reflecting the moonlight?_

“You’re not denying it.”

Takasugi crosses his legs, eyes looking away from the silver haired man in front of him and replies, “Think of it however you like. I’m not obligated to confirm your accusations at all.”

Gintoki doesn’t offer any retorts at all, resulting in a pure silence once again. He merely walks and sits on the floor, next to Takasugi. The ship shakes just slightly, as if it hits a small rock before it steadies itself and moves smoothly once again.

The sound of waves and the cool wind entering through the window are calming them down. Gintoki hears a squawking sound of seagulls and so he stands up, faces the window and admires the colony of seagulls that soars through the night as if they’re a group of soldiers, marching with weapons by their side, ready to invade the nearest island that they see. “I didn’t know seagulls are nocturnals.”

“You know nothing, that’s why.” Takasugi casually throws in an insult after he blows the smoke out of his mouth, like he’s a dragon. He removes the leg that once was resting on the window frame and stands up. “Also, there’s no such thing as seagull. It’s just gull.”

“Hah?” Gintoki raises one of his eyebrows. “But everyone says seagulls.”

“Everyone is wrong.”

“But-”

“Everyone is wrong.”

Gintoki sighs and tiredly asks, “How can you be so sure?”

Takasugi keeps quiet. He refills his kiseru and lights it up again, taking a big puff of it as he stares longingly at the stars that barely twinkles, as if they’re dying. Gintoki knows they’re not. Stars are the brightest when they’re dying after all. When Sakamoto had told him about it, Gintoki remembers that his jaw practically dropped, not believing in the slightest. But it made sense, in its own biblical way.

Takasugi is so bright like this. He practically glows in his own light, shimmering beautifully the same the moonlight reflects itself on the river. The light looks alive, practically moving elegantly on the surface of the water. It resembles a geisha’s performance that Gintoki remembers watching with the other Joui members a long time ago, when they decided to stop by a town to take a rest from the war.

That was the day Gintoki had looked back and forth from Takasugi and a geisha that everyone complimented as sexy and wondered why was it that the way Takasugi held the sake bottle as he poured it into his cup was far more heavenly.

“What are you looking at?”

Gintoki blinks a few times. “What?”

“You’ve been looking at me for awhile now.” He states, as if he’s a reporter that is telling the news about a terrible mass murderer that is still on the loose.

Gintoki moves his attention to the sky. The moon is no longer there. “It’s nothing.”

Takasugi glances at him with a blank look on his face, it’s hard to tell if he’s judging him or just confused. Gintoki continues staring at the other as he admires the moonlight that shines on his skin, making him look like an angel that just entered from the open window.

Takasugi moves out of the room for a while before coming back with a bottle of sake and two small cups, placing it quietly on a table in the room, as if loud noises will cause the remaining light that they can see in the darkening night to run away, hiding behind the thick clouds from their view.

He doesn’t have to say anything to get Gintoki to join him. He seems to get the idea already.

  
  
  
  


“When will we get there?” Gintoki sounds sleepy, which is understandable because it’s practically past 1 am already and yet here they are, getting drunk like they’re old men. Takasugi drinks another shot and answers, “Who knows. Maybe morning. If not then afternoon.”

Gintoki yawns loudly and lies on the wooden floor. His yukata is practically a mess right now, the obi barely wrapping around his waist already. Takasugi stares at his exposed chest, the way the piece of clothing can easily expose his stomach with even just a slight movement at this rate and his green eyes averts away from the grey haired man. “You’re not wearing your yukata properly now.”

Gintoki laughs snarkily, probably wanting to say “You’re not wearing yours properly either” right after that but he doesn’t. “Takasugi…”

Green eye meets with red. “What?”

“Bakasugi.”

“What.”

Gintoki stares at the ceiling, eyes focused but there is a hint of loneliness inside those rusty red eyes. Takasugi wants to ask him or even say anything at all that can comfort him. It’s not one of his specialties, though. So, instead, all he says is, “Sensei.. He..”  
  


“What?” Gintoki’s attention is his once again, and somehow it makes him feel even more nervous. Is this topic even suitable for this kind of situation? He feels like sighing loudly right now. “He’s the one who told me the birds are called gulls.” He whispers.

Gintoki blinks a few times. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Takasugi takes another shot and lets out an exhale. He hates this kind of atmosphere. Not because he doesn’t like peace or quiet, in fact, he is quite fond of it. He is just bad at it when it’s with Gintoki. He doesn’t remember ever being in a situation like this with the man before, or maybe he has, a long time ago. He just doesn’t remember.

Gintoki looks so melancholy right now, and Takasugi hates the fact that he can tell. He doesn’t even know how. Maybe it’s the way his chest is rising so slow, it feels like he is on the verge of losing oxygen. Maybe it’s the way Gintoki doesn’t even try to push him away when he places a hand on the messy grey hair and slowly pats him as if he is a stray cat that just got in here from the open window. Which is impossible, because they’re in the middle of the sea, no cats would be able to be here. But the fact that they’re in the same room for more than 5 hours and yet they haven’t even fought once is supposed to be impossible as well.

Takasugi grabs his left arm rather strongly but when he pulls Gintoki up he does it the same way almost anyone sane would treat a toddler, as if he reminds himself to not be too rough on him. Gintoki gazes on him, as if wanting to say something about it, but he keeps quiet instead.

He carefully thinks of what he should say before he opens his mouth. “If you’re sleeping, do it on the futon.” Too soft, too caring. He feels something stuck inside his throat and he doesn’t like it. He’s not used to this. Gintoki merely laughs, and normally Takasugi would think he is mocking him, but the smile on his face looks so peaceful he doesn’t know how to react.

  
  
  
  


The hand in his grip feels so soft, so pliant he feels like he is holding a doll’s hand. Gintoki lies on the futon, letting out small hics. Staring into the other’s eyes concernedly, Takasugi asks, “You need water?” to which he replies with, “No, no.” Gintoki lets out a small exhale as he tucks himself into the blanket.

Takasugi gives him a glass of water regardless. Gintoki gives a weak glare at him but receives it anyway when Takasugi pushes it to him. “Drink it until it’s finished.” He orders.

Once there is not even a drop of water in the glass, Gintoki puts it on the floor, beside their futon. He cheekily grins at Takasugi as he teases him, “Didn’t know you can be concerned about me too.” The brunette scoffs as he places the glass on the table. “Okay, let’s sleep.”

Before Takasugi is about to lie on the futon, Gintoki holds the other’s arm firmly. Feeling confused, Takasugi asks, “Gintoki?” The grey haired man doesn’t look up at all, continuing staring at his own lap. Takasugi swallows his own saliva and realises that his throat is dry. “If you want to vomit then you sh-”

A soft kiss lands on his lips before he has a chance to react. Gintoki leans further in, pushing the other’s back onto the futon and all Takasugi can think of is how gentle yet warm his touch feels. Takasugi can easily push him away because of how weak the other’s hold is, but he doesn’t. Because a part of him craves for it. Craves for the warmth of the grey haired man to seep its way through his skin, making him feel like he is burning on this unlit ship.

Being burned alive is one of the ways of dying that he’ll always be afraid of. Not that he spends his time getting away from any flammable substances or waking up from nightmares relating to him being burned alive on an altar as a sacrifice to the god. He wouldn’t be smoking, literally setting his lungs in fire if he’s that scared of it. But the thought of it indeed brings a great tremor of dread deep inside his guts. Although, he wouldn’t mind being burned alive if it meant the cause of the fire is Gintoki. (he’ll never tell him this. He’s not a maiden in love for fuck’s sake)

He feels warm drops of tears dripping on his face, tears coming from the person in front of him, evidence of the sorrow that weaves its threads inside his heart, unable to be cut, unable to be undone.

Takasugi touches his face and feels dampness at the edge of his thumb. Pushing Gintoki away to take a deep breath, he whispers, “Are you okay?”. Gintoki keeps quiet.

It’s dark here. The light is untouched, unseen, unheard of. Gintoki’s eyes look dead, although it’s nothing new. They have always looked dead. He wonders what those rusty red eyes see the whole time he is on this ship. Does Gintoki see the same thing he does? Takasugi places his palm on Gintoki’s chest and pretends to not feel, or see the small flinch Gintoki let out before he calms down. “Your heart… It’s beating.” His statement earns a rather loud laughter from the man that once looked dead. “Takasugi, have you gone stupid?”

_No, you’re the stupid one. You’re always the stupid one. Yes, I have. I have always been stupid since the day before war. Since the day before we met. I have always been stupid, Gintoki, and you know it. What kind of question is that?_

He merely grabs the back of Gintoki’s neck and smashes their lips together. Tongues tying and untying itself, melting like a sugar cube and there are no more tears. No more goodbyes. No more thoughts. Takasugi feels arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him further in with the kind of emotion that he can’t comprehend. There is no light, but everything seems so bright and hot. Gintoki breaks away the kiss and pants heavily, sweat dripping on his skin despite the cool air coming through the window.

Gintoki lies his head on top of a pillow and now he is looking at the plain ceiling. Eyes not blinking at all, anyone would think he is not alive if his chest isn’t heaving right now. A cold hand meets its way into his, intertwining their fingers as if it is a battle. Will the warmth of his hand melts his skin or will Takasugi’s cold hand freezes the seemingly undying fire that is dancing just right underneath the layer of his skin?

“Gintoki,” The reflection on his red eyes are replaced with the face of the person who is supposed to be the ghost of his past. Someone who is destined to be killed by him. The antagonist of this story. Takasugi’s sharp intake of breath before he continues talking cuts off his thoughts. “What have you been looking at all this time?”

Gintoki’s eyes blink softly, staring deeply into his eye. Reaching out with his right hand, he holds Takasugi’s face tenderly, caressing the closed eye that has never seen the light of the day ever since the war.

Even in the dark, he looks so bright. He is so cold, and yet so bright, so serene. If there are fireworks playing outside right now, Gintoki won’t even turn away from Takasugi and look at it. He will hold him tighter, gentler, asking him to never leave his side. He doesn’t care if Takasugi will use it as an advantage to blackmail him. He’ll do anything to make sure every day when he wakes up, the one eyed man will still be by his side, alive and well.

Smiling at the man in front of him, Gintoki whispers, like it’s a secret. A promise. “You wouldn’t trust me even if I told you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Takasugi pretends he doesn’t see the unshed tears right above Gintoki’s eyelids. He pretends he doesn’t notice the way the taller man looks like he is currently somewhere else, a place unnamed and uncalled for. What does the world look like behind those dead looking eyes? 

Blood drying up, nails leaving deep marks of half crescent moons on his cold skin, a blatant contrast of the heat of his soul.

Tears falling on the pillow, arms holding tightly on the cold skin that feels like an endless sea, so many things yet to discover, to learn about.

Takasugi looks up on his face, and sees something glistening on Gintoki’s cheek. He doesn’t think he has seen that kind of look on his face before. He doesn’t need to hear any more words falling from his lips, unsaid words turn into droplets of tears.

“Shh.” He places a kiss on his forehead and feels like something inside him breaks when he feels arms wrapping around his neck. Softly, slowly.

The whole world turns deaf when a violent sob escapes Gintoki’s mouth. His whole body trembling againsts his, arms tightening his hold. Takasugi rests his chin at the side of the other’s shoulder, hugging Gintoki’s trembling body while softly patting his head as an act of comfort.

He peeks a look at the sky while hugging the crying man and sees that there is not a single light left. It’s just pitch black. 

“Do you… have something you want to say?” Takasugi softly asks. He knows it’s so hard to make Gintoki talk about what he really feels, probably stemmed from his desires of wanting to be useful for other people and be the hero that he is supposed to be. It’s in the script, after all. Gintoki doesn’t care about it at all, of course. He cares about something far more important, and it will cost more than being just a normal hero. Takasugi knows it too well, he was there when he saw Gintoki bear a sin, heavier than the weight of the entire nation and bigger than the width of the entire world. Just for him. Just for them.

Gintoki lets out a soft laugh and exclaims, “It doesn’t matter. When has it mattered in the first place?” The words should sound harsh, hitting aggressively against his ears like a gust of wind, but it doesn’t because he says it like it’s a good thing. A blessing. Takasugi hates it.

Gintoki hates that he wishes for tonight to never end. He wants this to last longer, making up the decade they’ve lost, a horrible cost of surviving the war. The fist that once was hitting on his face is now softly caressing his skin and Gintoki would be lying if he says he doesn’t wish for this to happen.

“Please stay alive.” The word flows effortlessly from his mouth, and he sees Takasugi’s eyes slightly widening. Green eyes, gleaming even though there is no light, staring into his. Takasugi smirks, and Gintoki pretends he doesn’t notice the slight tremble on his jaw as he says, “I’m not that weak.”

He wants to laugh at the horrible joke. He wants to laugh until it turns into an ugly string of sobbing, mouth cursing the cruelty that is life. He doesn’t blame Takasugi for thinking this world is awful. It’s the truth. The world is cruel to him, to them. They are so close to salvation. So fucking close. And yet… and yet....

Takasugi moves away from him and lies next to him in his own futon. He reaches for Gintoki’s hand and holds it carefully like it’s something fragile. Gintoki’s grip on his hand is opposite. He holds it tightly, as if Takasugi will disappear from his sight the very next day.

“Can we cuddle?” Gintoki mutters. Takasugi lets out a breathy laugh and smirks. “Do you really have to ask?” Taking it as a yes, Gintoki quickly throws himself into the other’s embrace.

He nuzzles at his neck and whispers, “You smell like Yakult.”

Takasugi spats, “No I don’t. Do you think I use it as perfume or something?”

Takasugi hears giggles coming from the grey haired man, and can’t help but think it’s cute. “Just kidding. You smell more like smoke.”

He trails his fingers at the back of Gintoki’s neck and feels the soft prickling hair brushing on his skin. “You smell like strawberry.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Gintoki wheezes.

“No.” He answers as he inhales deeply on Gintoki’s shoulder. “You really do smell so sweet.”

Gintoki tightens his arms around him and lets out a rather loud exhale. “So… do you have something you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You used to want to destroy the world, right?” He continues after he hears Takasugi hums in response. “So, now that you’re over it, what do you wanna do now?”

Takasugi says nothing as a reply. He trails his hand on Gintoki’s back silently, a futile attempt in trying to memorise the shape of his spine. After a while, he mutters,”As if I’d know that.”

Gintoki laughs. Maybe because he predicted that answer. Or maybe because he didn’t think Takasugi would say that at all. Laughter isn’t something that can easily be analysed, after all.

“Let’s go home. Once all of this is over.”

Takasugi moves away from Gintoki for a bit to get a clear look on his face. “Home? Where is it?”

Gintoki’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t move nor say anything at all. He thinks that answer is all in all, enough already.

The boat sways and the tides shift its direction, leading their way to the tomorrow that no one knows of.

  
  
  
  


_Imagine a room,_

_a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart,_

_my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated_

_cities at the center of me, and here is the center_

_of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we_

_can drink from, but I can’t go through with it._

_I just don’t want to die anymore._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i just wanna write takagin making out on the boat because it totally happened okay. i know gintoki crying openly is kinda ooc but in my defense-
> 
> the narrator : they definitely dont have any defense to say for themselves.
> 
> also i just realised i used the word boat one time and then i call it ship a few sentences after that.... rlly sorry about that im indecisive dhsfgdsjhfgsjhd
> 
> THE POEM TITLE : SAYING YOUR NAME // RICHARD SIKEN  
> 
> 
> twt : dazaified. tumblr : fishing-rods.


End file.
